


Unmake the Memories

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Bondage, Kinks, M/M, Nobody is Vanilla Here, Pre-New 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-15
Updated: 2007-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-20 17:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14899128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Dick and Roy say goodbye before Roy leaves the team.





	Unmake the Memories

Dick was fifteen the first time he and Roy had sex, and for the first two years, if asked, he could have told exactly how many times they’d repeated their performance. Dick’s not sure why he stopped counting, but every reason he can think of makes him hurt - maybe he’d started to take Roy for granted, maybe he’d started to pull away earlier than he'd thought, maybe he'd begun putting up walls even that early. . .

Whatever the reason, Dick is certain, as he fumbles -

_[ "Such a virgin, Short Pants."_  
"Shut up. Like you're any better."  
"I don't fumble like a drunk quarterback on ‘roids, no." ] 

-with the clasps and latches of Roy's uniform, so much harder to remove than Speedy's had ever been, that if he hadn't stopped keeping count, maybe Roy wouldn't be ready to give one last pity fuck before walking out of Dick’s life and _their_ team.

 _I'm sorry,_ he thinks as Roy's hands far more confidently strip Dick’s uniform off. The hands are steady and sure, not shaking at all as the blue and black join Roy's colors on the floor beside what should have been the Outsiders’ conference table.

Dick’s mouth meets Roy’s, open, wordlessly allowing, then begging, Roy to explore the way they used to, those lazy afternoons before there’d been a Tower, before the Mission had seemed so important, before Lian. . . When the biggest problem they’d really ever faced was Mad Mod. Dick had never thought he’d miss Mad Mod, but God, he does, and he misses those lazy summer afternoons Mad Mod had interrupted, because his open and pleading mouth is met with quick, hard, jerky kisses that remind Dick that this is a goodbye fuck, nothing more. He isn’t hurt; no, that’s not true, because the fact that Roy hasn't even asked Dick to take off the mask _does_ hurt. But Dick understands. All of Roy’s issues - courtesy of Ollie - make certain that there is no doubt whatsoever about this being a goodbye.

_["The worst part was always while he was gone. I didn’t mind the actual leaving to go off with Hal and Dinah so much, you know? But the hoping and waiting on him to return? That drove me crazy. That’s why I . . .you know?"]_

Roy’s hands push him down on top of the conference table. Roy’s legs are wrapped around his, and the pressure of the table edge scrapes the backs of Dick’s calves as they tumble onto a table that had been intended for a team that will be _Dick’s_ from now on.

Not _their’s._

 _I don’t want you to go,_ Dick thinks, feeling the old, familiar jolt as Roy’s teeth leave his mouth and drop a trail of bites along Dick’s skin on the way to that sensitive spot behind Dick’s ear. Roy remembers where to touch so easily; Dick wonders if Roy also remembers the number of times they’d done this. Roy is - and had always been - the better lover.

_["I’m sorry, Roy._  
"Nothing to apologize for."  
"Yes, there is. I couldn’t reciprocate."  
"’Wing, you have a cold strong enough to force an elephant into bed rest. You can’t give a proper blowjob when you can’t breathe out of your nose. ‘Sides, I don’t want your snot all over my longbow, anyway."  
"I can’t believe you're calling it a longbow. And it’s not like I could give your penis a cold."  
"How do you know? Batman have you reading reports on the effects of a snotty blowjobs? Because if so? Eww."] 

Roy pulls back and begins generously coating his fingers with lube. Dick aches at the withdrawal of Roy’s touch, and distracts himself by focusing on the scars that mar Roy’s chest and arms. So many are familiar, having been licked, nibbled, and caressed from the moment they’d been earned.

But far too many scars are unfamiliar ones from battles Dick can’t place.

 _Stay. Let me learn them,_ he pleads inwardly. He bites his lip to keep the plea internal as Roy’s finger slides into him and begins loosening him up.

_["Where’d this one come from?_  
"Poison Ivy. I hate those plants."  
"This one?"  
"Two Face."  
"This one?"  
"Joker...I’m sorry. .. It must not be a lot of fun to have a partner who’s all scarred up."  
"Bah. It just means you’re a better sidekick than I am. But we both know that, don’t we?"  
"Roy. No, it doesn’t."  
"Sure it does. You have all these battle scars, and what do I have? Stupid track marks."  
"You’re not supposed to have as many scars as I do. You’re our long range fighter. I’m hand to hand. The only way you’d be as scarred as me is if I wasn’t doing my job correctly as leader."  
"Well, I’m lucky that you’re so damn obsessive about your job, then, aren’t I?"] 

By the time Roy removes his fingers and begins putting on a condom, Dick can taste the blood in his mouth that has come with biting his own lip. He winces and swallows it down, hating the bitter coppery taste that he’s tasted in battle more than once. But he focuses on the taste, because it’s a good distraction from the feel of the latex pushing inside of him, reminding him of the fact that they are no longer close enough to know the other to be disease free. He still enjoys the feeling of Roy’s fullness being inside him, but they’re no longer skin to skin.

Dick attempts to make up for that by changing positions, needing to have as much touch as possible. He knows this will be over soon - _too soon_ \- but it’s his last chance to touch Roy. His legs wrap around Roy’s waist, pulling the redhead closer and hands reach up, wanting to touch. Roy responds to the former by holding still long enough for Dick to wriggle his legs around him, but his response to the latter is to grab each wrist and press them against the cold wood of the conference table.

_["Speedy…why would you give me a book on bondage porn?"  
"Because I **know** you?"]_

The tightness of Roy’s hands against his wrists only reminds Dick of the absence of a collar around his throat, and he jerks against the hands frantically. "No. Let me go," he begs, a hint of desperation slipping out despite his resolve to the contrary. "Need to touch."

Roy complies, and Dick’s hands wander freely, exploring scars and flawless skin with the same frantic amount of attention. He enjoys the feel of Roy beneath his fingertips, but now his wrists feel as bare as his neck … and Dick can’t help but wonder if Roy still has the collar that he’d once taken such pride in wearing.

 _["I want you to wear this one."_  
"Beads? It doesn’t quite go with our usual leather motif."  
"No. But it does go well with Navajo jewelry."  
"Ah. Makes me more yours?"  
"Yes. **Mine**."]

Strong, calloused, freckled hands wrap around Dick’s cock, jerking in time to the thrusts of Roy’s hips. Roy isn’t taking his time - they don’t have that luxury today - and there’s a dull ache that joins the pleasure brought on by Roy’s movements. Dick wonders how long that ache will last, after Roy is gone, and how he’ll deal with the loss of his best friend and partner when the pain - and the bite marks along his neck - are gone.

He could go. He knows that option is open. He could go back to New York, and he and Roy could be a family, and Dick would never have to worry about the marks fading. He could find out if Roy still has his collar, or they could buy a new one _together._ Dick knows it is a possibility, because it’s Roy, and Roy has been the one person who never turned him away. Dick knows that would be true one more time, if they were to get up off this table and go home together.

But as much as Dick wants to, his want is overshadowed by the forty-four bodies and the need to show his penance for what he’s done. He’s the leader, and it’s his fault they’re dead, just as surely as it had been his fault that Donna had died under his watch.

_["Responsibility is a very big part of what we do, Robin. When you make a mess, you have to clean it up."_  
"But what if it’s an accident?"  
"That doesn’t absolve you of responsibility."] 

__Roy finishes first, and Dick closes his eyes, memorizing each breathless gasp as Roy pulls out and tosses the condom in the trash before resuming his efforts. Dick’s nails dig into the redhead’s arms as he comes, spilling onto Roy’s stomach.

_["So Donna thought it was gross. The first girl I ever get past third base with, and she thought having sex was messy.. And I can't believe you‘re laughing at me."_  
"I’m not laughing."  
"Are too."  
"Look, it’s not as messy for girls, right? You can’t blame her for thinking that it was messy. Comparatively, it is."  
"Yeah. Guess I’m stuck having sex with you, Short Pants."  
"Is that really so bad?"  
"If it was really so bad, I wouldn‘t keep coming back to your messy self, would I?"] 

They go through the motions of clean up quickly, habits formed in the old days making their actions quick and efficient, and the weight of their history making them silent. Dick very carefully uses all his training not to fall apart as they walk out of the room and towards the rest of their - _Dick’s_ team.

Words should be said, but stay lodged in Dick’s throat. _Stay. Please._ Instead, he falls back onto the comfort of the mission at hand.

"Green Arrow’s willing to help, Roy?"

"Willing? Dick, he’s leaping at the chance. And he seemed to have a larger bankroll than I imagined. You’ve got your funding." Roy stops, pauses, and the hand that was wrapped around Dick’s cock two minutes before is now resting comfortably on Dick’s shoulder. Dick bites his lip, and tastes the scar from doing the same earlier in the evening. "Your new ride is in the hangar. And this is my last job as an Outsider."

"It doesn’t have to be." _Stupid_ , Dick thinks. Roy has to leave. Lian can’t go where they’re going.

Roy pulls him into a hug. Dick feels ashamed at his own surprise; it’s not the first time that Roy has heard his unspoken pleas. "It does," Roy whispers softly, breaking their hug, and letting his arm fall. "Where you’re going. . .what you need to do…You’ll do it better without me."

It’s not true. But arguing… arguing would only cause Roy more grief. And after all the years that Roy has been the anchor Dick needed, just this once, Dick can be strong for Roy. He can let him walk away.

But he’s not quite strong enough to agree out loud with such a statement. The best he can do is a small nod.

Roy smiles at him briefly before turning and walking away. With a backwards hand wave, the redhead assures, "I’ll see you around. After all, you’re the only one on the team who isn’t dead."

It’s the kind of optimism that Dick doesn’t really believe in, but it takes Grace’s question from behind him, low and surprisingly gentle for her, to make him stop watching Roy walk away. "We ready?"

"I believe we are. Let’s go."  
\---------------------------------------


End file.
